


surprise

by neckwear



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckwear/pseuds/neckwear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gaby? Are you alright?"</p>
<p>Gaby looks up from the marble sink and doesn't answer, just looks at him with doe eyes. He repeats the question, and this time she does answer, but blurts it out. </p>
<p>"I'm pregnant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katyfaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/gifts).



> This is a prequel to my fic, sasha!

Gaby wakes up to the smell of bacon on the stove, and feels a pang of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. 

When she had gotten the tests backs from the doctor (whom both Illya and Napoleon insisted she saw, after spending an hour or two vomiting into the toilet and then trying to stand and becoming dizzy) she was too scared to tell them - the three of them weren't supposed to be involved, much less have a child. And she didn't know how to tell them, or how they may react. Of course, they would be there when she had the baby and while she was carrying, but...she could never get rid of these intrusive thoughts.

When she slips out of bed, she hears the shower running, and assumes Illya is in the shower. She's able to sneak out without him hearing and sees Napoleon at the stove, his apron tied around his waist as usual in the morning, humming a Frankie Valli song. When he hears the door click, he looks behind him and grins, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "Good morning," he says. She grins tightly and picks up a scarf left on the chair, pulling her hair back with it. 

After sitting down, Illya comes out of the bathroom, already looking sharp in just a button up and dress pants, but his hair is still wet and Gaby thinks she likes it most that way - when he isn't completely put together and runs a hand through his hair, and she can tell that today won't be a busy one at all. 

Perfect.

He sits across from her, and nods towards her. She smiles but grabs a biscuit from the plate Napoleon has set on the table to distract from him. As she starts to butter the biscuit, Napoleon looks over his shoulder at Gaby. "Feeling any better?"

Gaby nods, looking up at him and grinning as she tucks her loose hair behind her ear. "Just a bit." She feels like shit, but she won't let on - at least, she'll try not to. 

But Illya, damn Illya, has to be observant as all hell and point out that she looks pale and under the weather. She knows he's been trained to be perceptive, but he can never shut it off. She shoots him a look, and he looks sympathetic. "Are you going to eat your biscuit?"

She nods her head, taking a bite but feeling her stomach twist and turn despite trying to look completely fine. Illya raises a brow, but when Napoleon scoops out scrambled eggs onto his plate, his brow furrows. "What is this?"

"Scrambled eggs. Have you never had them before?" Napoleon asks, and starts to dole some out on Gaby's plate, who holds up her hand and smiles. 

"I have had eggs, but not like this." Illya pokes at them with a fork and inspects them. "Are they laced with anything?"

"Now, Illya, why would I ever try to poison you? After how far we've come?" Napoleon has a grin on his face, and Gaby sighs.

Something about the impending argument that Gaby knows is coming bothers her, and she gets up from the table to walk into the kitchen and stand at the sink. She hears them talking but doesn't listen, because her head is spinning and she thinks she might throw up in the sink from just a bite of the biscuit. She grips onto the kitchen sink to keep herself from falling, and then is snapped out of her trance at the sound of Illya's voice.

"Gaby? Are you alright?"

Gaby looks up from the marble sink and doesn't answer, just looks at him with doe eyes. He repeats the question, and this time she does answer, but blurts it out. 

"I'm pregnant."

Napoleon is holding the spoon of eggs over his plate but freezes, turning to look at her, eyes wide with shock. Illya almost looks the same way, but he looks confused and slightly nervous. The two of them look at each other, and Illya is the first to speak up. "Pregnant?"

Gaby pauses, staring at them, before she huffs and walks out of the kitchen, storming into the living room, because the reaction irritates her for no good reason other than she's probably hormonal and nauseous. She hears a plate clatter onto the table as she yanks off the scarf around her head and tosses it on the couch, and when she turns she suddenly feels Napoleon's arms reach around to pick her up and spin her around, and she yelps as he does. 

"Don't do that!" Illya yells, and he gets out of his chair to stop Napoleon. When he gets him to stop, Gaby can't see straight, and Illya holds her close to him. "She is with child."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Peril," Napoleon responds, a smirk on his face. "I wouldn't have dropped her."

Gaby is able to break away from Illya, and stumbles towards the couch to sit down, dizzy and nauseous. Illya moves to sit next to her, as does Napoleon, and Illya runs a hand through her hair. "How long have you known?" Illya asks.

"A week," she answers, laying her head back on Napoleon's shoulder. He puts his arm around her on the sofa and kisses the top of her head. "I just got the tests back."

"Well...We will need to fix a room for the baby," Illya starts, and when she looks over at him she can see him processing the idea in his head, calculating the issue. "And buy a stroller, and toys, and clothes - "

"Relax," Napoleon says, and looks at Illya over Gaby's head. "Don't stress Gaby out any more than she already is."

Illya shoots him a look, but hushes, watching Gaby closely. "Do you know what the gender is?"

Gaby shakes her head. "Do you care?"

Illya shrugs, looking at the ceiling. "I am partial to boys."

"Why not girls?" Napoleon counters, and Illya turns his head to glare at him. 

"I did not say I don't like girls," he clarifies, and he sees the smug look on Napoleon's face. "Do not give me that look."

"What look, Peril?"

" _That_ look!"

Gaby closes her eyes, nuzzling her cheek onto Illya's shoulder, and feels the sense of dread replaced with a warm sensation of home and belonging and she's not quite sure why she was nervous in the first place anymore.


End file.
